Chapter 6 ROSE
ROSE
“Everything all right with your mum?” Lisa asks as we buckle up for takeoff.
“She was in a bad way. The pneumonia really took it out of her with her COPD. When Elio called the other day, he didn’t think she’d last the week, but the doctors said she perked up today knowing I was visiting.”
“I’m glad you could switch flights.”
“Me too. Hopefully I can do the Manchester to Rome route more often.” I lean my head back and close my eyes as we pick up speed on the runway.
My stomach flutters as we lift off. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving the feeling of weightlessness as I leave all my troubles on the ground, including D’Angelo Bianchi.
The flutters in my belly turn to knots when I remember seeing him today. How is it possible to love and hate someone at the same time?
My ears muffle to the sounds of the engine as we rise higher. Clouds float by the window in the door and the plane levels out. An overwhelming peace washes over me as we glide above the clouds.
Up here I’m as free as a bird. No Magnus and no D’Angelo. The only worries I have are my mother and Angelos, but I know he’s safe at his school and right now he’ll be at his football match.
My chest swells with pride, knowing I raised my son all by myself.
He doesn’t know the details of my marriage.
He thinks we moved and changed our name because his father was in prison and we didn’t want anyone to know we were related to a criminal.
There’s no point in telling Angelos we changed our name to make it difficult for Magnus and his family to find us.
Angelos only witnessed my abuse a few times, and he was too young to remember. He idolised Magnus And Magnus knew it.
Any abuse I suffered was always behind closed doors. To everyone else, he was the perfect gentleman.
But I knew him for what he was.
A monster.
“Thank you.” I pay the taxi driver and wheel my case down the drive to my small two-bed semi-detached on the outskirts of the city. A quiet area where the most exciting thing that happens on the street is bin day. Just how I like it, but tonight, something feels off.
From the corner of my eye, a shadow flits past the neighbour’s hedge. I stop, still as a statue. My head jerks in that direction, but when I turn, there’s nothing. Just leaves rustling in the wind. Still, my pulse kicks up.
I shake it off and keep walking. It’s just my imagination after seeing D’Angelo today. The wheels of my case bump over the paving slabs. I wave my hand in front of the sensor when the porch light doesn’t automatically turn on like it always does. My stomach twists.
“Come on…” I mutter, waving again until it finally flickers to life. Another thing I need to fix around here. I glance around quickly, shadows stretch long across the lawn, clawing towards the house like dark fingers, as if trying to reach for me.
Hairs prickle on the back of my neck, and an uneasy shiver runs the length of my spine.
My heart rate accelerates as I dare to scan my surroundings one more time.
Uneasiness manifests in my stomach. I fumble with my keys and let out a sigh when the correct one slides into the keyhole and turns to unlock my front door.
“Meow.” My cat, Sir-Pounce-A-Lot, lands at my feet.
“For goodness’ sake.” I let out a long breath and relax my shoulders as I scoop my big black cat into my arm and carry him over the threshold, wheeling my case behind me.
I let out a shaky laugh, stroking his thick fur.
The smell of home—the faint scent of jasmine from the plug-in diffuser—grounds me.
“You had me on edge. I thought someone was watching me.” Another laugh escapes, but after the day I’ve had, it seems not all my ghosts are laid to rest. But it’s not Dan I’m worried about.
If Magnus has found us… No, don’t go there. He can’t hurt me anymore.
I hug my cat close to my chest, his warmth soothing. “There’s a reason we call you Sir-Pounce-A-Lot.” I kiss his black fur and set him down near his feeding mat in the kitchen, where he waits for me to give him fresh food and water.
“There you go,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears as he munches. “You’ve probably been fed by the entire street again.” I smile, picturing him making the rounds with his mournful eyes and soft paws. “You little con artist.”
I slip off my shoes in the hallway and notice a picture askew on the console table. Angelos and me at his award ceremony at school a few years ago. I smile as I look at my son’s picture. He's always resembled my brother Elio, but now I see so much of his father in him.
Guilt climbs up my throat, threatening to spill out of my mouth, but I swallow it down.
I shouldn’t feel guilt after everything I’ve endured to keep my son alive and my family safe.
I shouldn’t have this gaping hole in my chest, and I certainly shouldn’t be longing for a man I have every reason to hate.
Lifting the frame, I use my sleeve to rub a smudge on the edge of the glass. I don’t recall this being here before. I always wipe the frames when I dust. Someone’s been here. Mrs. Aranda has a key. Sir-Pounce-A-Lot’s probably knocked the frame over and she’s put it back. That must be it.
I place the photo back into position and shrug off my jacket as I pad upstairs. My body breaks out in goose bumps. I’m being ridiculous. The doors are locked. The cat’s fine. It’s just been a long, emotional day.
Dropping on the bed, I sink into the mattress and text Elio.
How’s Mamma doing?
Much better. She perked up after seeing you.
Warmth spreads in my chest as I call my son.
“Hey, Mum.” Music plays in the background.
“Hi, how did today go?”
“Fine,” he shouts over the music.
“Where are you?”
“There’s a band playing in the main hall.” The music gets quieter and I hear a door close. “Is that better?”
“Are there chaperones?”
“Mum, I’m in school. You don’t need to worry.”
“I always worry. I think I’ll still worry about you when you’re fifty.” If I’m still alive by then.
“Mum, that’s so cringe.”
“Mums are meant to be cringe.” A smile pushes my cheeks up. “Tell me all about your football match.”
“I scored. We won 5–1.” His voice turns animated as he tells me all about the goals.
“I’m so proud of you.” My smile falters, wishing I were there to watch every game. “I’ll ask Helena if she videoed it.”
“How’s Nonna?”
“She’s getting better.” I hold the phone to my chest, silently praying that she will get better, but with COPD there’s no cure, just treatment to help improve her quality of life.
My bedroom door creaks and a draft filters in from the hallway. Rising from the bed, I pad into Angelos’ room. “I’m gonna go. It’s late. I’ll see you on Sunday after your friend’s party, okay? His mum, Helena, says she’ll drop you off in the afternoon.”
“All right, Mum. Love you.”
“Love you.” I turn on the light in Angelos’ bedroom. Football players stare at me from his bedroom wall. Nothing is out of place.
Everything looks normal. But it doesn’t feel normal. I walk back into my room. The cushions on the bed—only two propped. I always leave all three lined up. Always.
It’s small. Barely anything. Could be nothing. Could be me.
But it doesn't feel right. A shiver crawls down my spine. Nothing has felt right since I saw Dan on the plane. The turbulence from the flight is now in my head.
I walk to the dresser and check the drawer where I keep the spare keys. Still there. Nothing appears touched. I rub my arms and shake off the chill creeping over my skin. “I’m just tired,” I mutter. “It’s been a long day. I’ve seen ghosts. Now I’m making them up.”
Still, I double-check the lock on the window. Secure. Just like I left it.
I cross the room, undress and toe off my tights, and sink onto the bed. The duvet welcomes me, but my mind won’t switch off. It whirs with the image of that tilted photo, the sensor light delay, the shadow at the hedge, the cushions…
I need to relax.
I open the nightstand drawer and pull out the small velvet pouch.
My secret weapon. Self-care in silicone form.
The familiar weight in my hand already calms me.
Not because I need a release, but because I need to feel something other than anxiety.
I slip under the covers, let my mind drift somewhere else, somewhere safe.
Somewhere mine. But the only thing that comes to mind… is him.